


Rewritten Chapters

by Aurelia_21



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Deleted Scenes, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21586105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurelia_21/pseuds/Aurelia_21
Summary: One difficulty of publishing first/second/third drafts of my work on here is that sometimes, based on comments and further reflection, I decide that a scene needs some serious reworking. My drive is littered with cast-aside drafts of scenes that I rewrote before posting. On a few occasions, I rewrote after posting, and pasted the new version into old chapters of my work.I doubt anyone cares except me, but in the interests of transparency I'm putting the original versions here. So, that's what these are! The new versions are much better. Please go read them instead :D
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley (not endgame)





	1. Civil Disagreements (Original)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hermione Granger and the Cost of Memories (Previously: Hermione Granger and That Damn Malfoy Boy)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18520030) by [Aurelia_21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurelia_21/pseuds/Aurelia_21). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the new-and-improved version here: https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/49577096?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_264807076

Hermione left the office just after five after spending the rest of the afternoon helping Ele take down a deposition from an elderly woman called Babbity Bibshot who was appealing a conviction she’d gotten from selling Muggle dishwashers in Diagon Alley. It was a bit of a relief to see that defending clients of the sort whose own children thought they were guilty would not be her entire job.

She spotted Pigwidgeon flying toward her in the atrium, and was caught between nervousness and relief––Ron must be back, and okay, if he was able to contact her again. But had he been okay the whole time, or was he about to have regressed a year or so and think they had just started dating?

The note was short, and it was in Ron’s writing––he just wanted to know her new address. She scribbled it down and sent Pigwidgeon off again.

Hermione got home and had barely had time to put her work things away and start wondering if she had it in her to figure out how to cook when there was a knock at the door. She opened it to find Ron, who greeted her with a big hug and an enormous grin.

“Hermione!”

She pulled him in at once, shutting the door, and he looked around, grinning.

“Nice place you’ve got! I brought us some proper wine to celebrate. None of that Muggle stuff.” He waved a bottle of banana wine and set it on her counter, using his wand to pop the cork and summoning two of her wine glasses. “So, tell me all about this new job of yours!”

Hermione took the wine, beaming, giving herself a moment just to bask in the warmth of having a happy moment together. It was good to see him smiling again, good to be friends again; it had been months and months since they had had an evening together that hadn’t involved a fight.

“It’s a legal job,” she said, prancing over to the table and taking a seat.

“A legal job?” Ron clinked his glass against hers in celebration, then took a sip. “That’s just what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Sure is!” Hermione grinned, but she could feel the corners of her mouth starting to fall just a little. She set her glass down. “You know, it was really quite hard for me to get a job. I had to borrow money off Harry and talk my way into taking one of the Magical Law tests early to even get consideration.”

“Right, right.” Ron downed another large sip of wine and poured himself more from the bottle. “So who’s the job with? What firm?”

“It’s with the offices of Bartimeus Bartleby,” said Hermione.

Ron’s grip tightened on the glass and he shot her a look. “Bartleby?”

Hermione’s stomach did a little flip. “Yes, you know him?”

Ron shook his head. “Sometimes, with the Auror office...he got Swarthington off, you know. Got his charges reduced to just ten years in Azkaban. He’ll reoffend; we wanted the Kiss. But what are you working with him on? Property law? I know he also does a lot of inheritance cases.”

Hermione looked down at the table. “Er, well, Criminal Law, actually. As a paralegal.”

“He’s becomes a prosecutor, then?” Ron downed half his glass in a single gulp and inclined his head toward her. “Good for him. Who’s the client?”

When Hermione spoke her voice sounded so small and distant Ron snapped at her to speak up. She cleared her throat and looked him in the eyes. “Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy.”

Ron smashed his glass down too hard on the table, making her shriek—it shattered. He cursed loudly and repaired it swiftly with his wand. “Malfoy? Lucius Malfoy? You have got to be kidding me—how could you do this to me?”

“Do it to you?” Hermione had pushed her chair back from the table when he broke the glass and now she was a foot away. “This has nothing to do with you, Ron. Every Magical citizen has the right to a fair trial, and that means a lawyer.”

Ron was shaking his head, breathing hard. He was standing now. He poured more wine into his repaired glass and took a sip, shuddering like he was trying to calm himself.

Hermione felt like her skin was crawling, looking at him.

He breathed heavily, then slammed his glass down, fixing her with a glare. “Get off the case.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione stood up, too. She was a good foot shorter than him, but he looked less threatening from up here.

“I said, get off the case. You’ll get off the case.”

Hermione crossed her arms and her eyes flashed. “No.”

“You have to!” Ron threw his arms out, his voice loud and desperate. “You have to get off it! I can’t have you representing him.”

“I’m going to be a lawyer!” Hermione’s voice grew louder. “This is what lawyers do, Ron. They uphold the law! For everyone! We’re not judges!”

“I wish you were,” Ron muttered, glowering. He seized the bottle and drank directly from it. “I mean, how is this supposed to go? How am I supposed to introduce you at parties now? Er, ‘Hello, fellow Aurors. This is my girlfriend. She’s representing a convicted Death Eater.’”

“He’s not convicted yet,” said Hermione, her face burning. “That’s the entire point of the trial. To argue if he should be convicted.”

“Whatever!” Ron turned his face in anguish. “How is that going to make me look, huh? What are they going to think of you?”

“You’ll tell them that we saved the world and now I’m working for justice!” Hermione said, her voice sounding a little hysterical. “They already know who I am, Ronald! I’m famous too!”

“The Malfoys are reputational poison! Even Pansy freaking Parkinson doesn’t associate with them!”

“Since when do you care about reputation?!”

“Since you decided to spend all your time mixing with Death Eaters!”

Hermione frowned, her lip trembling slightly. “I don’t spend all my—“

Ron took another swig before setting the bottle on the table. “So how’s Draco taking it?”

“What do you mean?”

Ron shrugged. “They can’t like having you on the case. Not since you attacked him and got him thrown out of Hogwarts.”

“I apologized,” said Hermione, tightening her arms. “I apologized and he came back and I helped him pass his N.E.W.T.s.”

“You apologized?” The expression in Ron’s eyes looked dangerous. She didn’t think she’d told him about the apology even when he’d had his full memory.

“I was in the wrong,” she said firmly. “He apologized, too. First, actually. He’s reformed.”

“They don’t reform,” said Ron. “They’re using you. They’re all Slytherins—cunning, that’s what they are. Cunning and manipulative and sly and bastards, every one of them...” he was pacing now, fists clenched. “You’ll never be anything but a Mudblood to him.”

“Excuse you?” Hermione’s eyes stung.

Ron swirled to face her. “He thinks of you as lesser, Hermione. As subhuman. He’ll never respect you.”

“He’s actually been very nice to me!” Her voice tore from her lips, sounding more high pitched and passionate than she remembered. “He showed me loads of useful spells. He showed me how to erase books and store the text in potion bottles in case you need to hide it or get a blank book, and how to use a Quick Quotes Quill, and how to copy text—“

“Secretary skills?” Ron gave a hollow laugh. “Course he did. He knows you don’t know those spells. He wants you to have the know-how to get his father off. Don’t you realize you’re making them look good by working for them?”

Hermione was lost for words.

“Face it, Hermione. You’re still just a Mudblood to him.”

She stomped her foot. “Stop calling me that!”

“I’m not calling you—“

“Stop saying it! Nobody says that to me! Nobody gets to say it!”

Ron stepped back, raising his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know you didn’t.” She was still breathing heavily.

He turned and looked away. “You need to get off the case, though.”

She crossed her arms. “And do what? Become an Auror?”

Ron turned to her, his eyes full of hope. “Yes!”

Hermione bit her lip. “I can’t do that, Ron. I can’t. You don’t understand—“

“Why not? Why can’t you just be on the good side again?” His voice was full of longing.

“I am on the good side,” she said. “But there are a lot of bad people on the good side. Someone needs to restrain the Ministry. No one deserves the Dementor’s Kiss, not even Lucius Malfoy; it’s beneath us as a society. It’s horrible beyond imagining.”

“Does Harry know who you’re representing?”

“Harry got me the job. He’s on my side.”

“He won’t be after I’m through with him!”

Hermione took an instinctive step back. Ron’s fists were clenched; he was breathing heavily through his nostrils.

Her fingers found their way to her opposite elbows, tugging at the yarn of her sweater. “I have to go,” she said, her heart racing. “I forgot. I had plans with Luna before I knew you’d be coming back.”

“With Luna?” Ron’s eyebrows arched like he didn’t believe her.

“Yeah.” Hermione picked up her beaded bag and made for the door. She just needed to get out. He had spoiled her evening; she didn’t want a fight…

She turned in the threshold, the panic she felt rapidly transmorphing into anger. “Calm down, won’t you? I won’t be with you if you act like this.” She spun and Disapparated before she could catch his response.

But she didn’t go to Luna’s. It was dangerous, Disapparating when you were upset and without a clear destination in mind. She found herself on a streetcorner in Hampstead. The sun was almost down, thank goodness, and she had on her blackest robes, because it was a Muggle street. It was where she had grown up.

Hermione looked out at the melted red remnants of the sunset and tried to take a deep breath, but found it difficult. There was a bus stop just feet away, and she took shelter under it, collapsing onto the bench with her elbows on her knees. There was so much swirling around in her mind: Ron, and angry Ron, and hurt Ron, and proud Ron; but also Draco, and the look on his face when his father blamed him for ruining his chances at a plea deal…

She waited a little longer until she was sure Ron had gone home, then Apparated back, heart thudding as she pulled open the door to her apartment. It was dark and empty, thank goodness. She needed the quiet; she had to be up early again for work.

She put herself to bed, but then she just laid there, looking at the dark shadows on the lilac wall Ginny had built for her, unable to fall asleep, until the sun’s first rays crept across the wall and she finally had an excuse to throw off her coverlet and stumble into work.


	2. Disconnection (original ending, Harry's conversation)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can read the new-and-improved version of this scene here https://archiveofourown.org/works/18520030/chapters/50225588

Her flat looked bereft and empty when she got back home. She couldn’t face this new divorce assignment just yet, so she left it there and walked down to a Muggle corner shop, where she picked up a sad-looking vegetable salad stuffed in a little plastic container. She ate it with a plastic fork alone at her kitchen table, then decided to get Bartleby’s divorce assignment over with as quickly as possible.

She dumped out the satchel on the floor, and so much paperwork spilled out she felt like she might cry. There was enough here to eat up her entire weekend. But there was nothing for it; it was an order from her boss and she had to do it; at least she’d be putting in more extra hours toward that bonus….

Harry found her like that a couple of hours later when he knocked on the door. He already had his traveling cloak on and was an hour away from meeting Ginny to take an international Portkey to France for her month-long European season.

She greeted him with a big, tight hug. He held her for a long minute.

“Hey,” he said gently. “I spoke with Ron. He seemed pretty upset about your new job.”

“Yeah.” Hermione turned away, hoping the burning red brims of her eyes weren’t too obvious.

"You're on the Malfoy case?"

"Ron told you?"

Harry stooped down to join her on the floor. “I just wanted to let you know I still think you’re doing the right thing,” he said earnestly. “We need accountability so we don’t get caught up in punishing people. Being an Auror is not a license to punish people however you want. I think sometimes, some people forget that.”

Hermione heaved a sigh, running her fingers over the bumpy brown knots of the carpet. “Should I be on the Malfoy case, though? I mean, he’s so repulsive. You should hear the way he talks in these meetings. He keeps saying he’s innocent and it’s disgusting; it’s just revolting.”

“He might truly have been under duress,” Harry said. “People react badly and do terrible things when they’re frightened and hurting. I feel like you and I know that better than most people.”

Hermione took shelter in his arms as he wrapped them around her again. “Yeah,” she whispered.

“I’m only an owl away,” said Harry. “You let me know if you’re upset, or if something’s wrong with Bartleby, or if you need me to come knock some sense into Ron for you. I’ll be right there as soon as you need me.”

“Thank you,” she breathed.

Then Harry left and she subsumed herself in Bartleby’s wife’s financial statements until she couldn’t take it anymore and collapsed into bed.


End file.
